October 7, 2012
In a dream, white room-corridor, the light begins dimming. Hard to describe the sense of impending death and creepiness as I crouch down, hugging myself, even though there is no protection against the gathering, darkly evil supernatural force. In the gray blackness, I see it take form and head right for me in humanoid form. I cringe, but then abruptly straighten up. Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t believe in anything like this. I confront the figure, declaring, “This is a dream!” All my superstitious dread vanishes and my confidence is one-hundred percent that I can fight it, or banish it, or tell it I love it and embrace it, which is what I end up doing, for a moment. “But then again,” I add, “I don’t much like you, so get out! Go!” It runs from me and I forget about it in my new intent, which is to get out of that claustrophobic corridor-room. I don’t know if I follow it or not, but almost right away I come to a window. Smirking inwardly, I Superman my way through it, thinking, ‘Let’s see if I need a spell for this’ knowing perfectly well I won’t, because I intend to go through it, and I do. The sensation is curious, not unpleasant, an undulating semi-liquid-solid feel that lasts longer than the pane is thick, but I’m now outside in that dusk-night of so many lucid dreams.
I soar away from the structure I just emerged from, so pleased to be free and flying in a lucid dream. I’m vaguely aware of trees below me, open nature, because my attention is concentrated on the song I’m hearing, broadcast by the dream itself. The melody is simple and yet arresting, much like a sixties folk-pop song. I concentrate on the lyrics even though I know I won’t be able to remember them in detail. The voice is male and he sings of summer and the final refrain is filled with eloquent longing and appeal that is heart-felt but not afraid or desperate, “Never leave me!”
As I coast through the sky, I point my right index finger down toward the ground, testing to see if I can intend that sparkling violet laser-like shaft of energy. No problem, and I remember to direct it toward my sinuses, irritated by the cold I’m getting over in WR. I can feel the effect it has on my sinuses, a subtle but distinct force-pressure. I’m pleased, but suddenly I think it’s time to do something more important, to travel somewhere, and I think of X’s portal to ancient Egypt and the pyramids. Only thing is, I’m close to the ground and a one-story white building that doesn’t look very inspiring. As I consider where to begin, the dream phases out and I find myself in bed.
I fall asleep almost immediately and suffer a false awakening as I explain to Stinger, and perhaps my sister sitting to the right of me on the couch, that I just had a little lucid dream… Then Stinger is chasing me down a corridor, in a sexy way and telling me that his Guardian in dreams is a fat black woman, so I don’t have to be jealous. Laughing, I let him catch me and pin me back against a wall as I tell him that I know perfectly well that’s not what she looks like. He’s aware of my Guardian Lords and how attracted I am to them. I say, “They’re Guardian Lords, you’re not supposed to be able to resist them.”
Dream Note: That day I had been discussing Rory MacSweeney’s “Chaos Magic” with a few other lucid dreamers. I personally don’t feel the need to bolster my belief with spells chosen to achieve a desired effect; if I really want to achieve something and believe it’s possible, I will, and it is. My dream self immediately verified my point of view. And if I was to use a “spell” I feel it would be much more effective, not to mention easier to remember, if it was my own creation rather than a formula borrowed from another tradition. If I desire and intend something strongly enough, the dream responds. Lugging a growing bag of magic tricks with me into my lucid dreams would become a real drag. Some might consider it fun, might find that “spells” help them focus their intent, but it’s not the spell that succeeds, it’s the belief in the spell. I prefer to believe directly in the powers of my Inner Self.
Music is becoming more frequent in my dreams; this is the second dream this week in which I have clearly heard a melody and lyrics I’m not familiar with in Waking Reality.